Quiet
by FionaRain
Summary: Slight AU, with Mikey being a bit more of a shy and introverted reader, but that's pretty much the only difference. Written for Turtle Tots ABC contest on DA.
Splinter watched his boys as they played, running hither and tither. The bustle was a good thing, as he'd found out a few years into fatherhood. After all, if he could hear them he knew where they were, and that was half the battle. There were ways in which his children were quiet though; Donatello was often quiet when he thought, trying to figure out how every appliance in their home worked its little bit of magic. Raphael would quietly seethe, letting his anger get the best of him and refusing to talk, not only to the sibling that had invoked his rage, but to all of them. Splinter made a mental note to try to find a new method to encourage Raphael to talk out his emotions. Leonardo was quiet and cooperative, if he was asked to sit still and meditate with his father, he would. Michelangelo was truly his quietest son, though, expertly walking around their home without making a sound and rarely ever speaking more than a handful of words at a time. At least, this was what Splinter thought.

He sometimes heard his older three sons discussing something the youngest had said to one or more of them. Usually the topic was outlandish, like creatures, monsters, ghosts, and the like, and always his older sons claimed that Michelangelo had told them about each thing. Splinter had no idea how any of his children would know of such things, (seriously, where did they pick up on the idea of leprechauns?) nor why they seemed to blame the youngest for said topics being brought into conversation, but every time he consulted Michelangelo for the truth, he was met with the same gentle silence of a shy child. Of course, none of his sons were in trouble for discussing these topics, no matter how strange Splinter found them, he was simply curious as a father, trying to figure out where his sons had truly gained this knowledge. Some subjects he understood how they would come up, like things from their picture books, or something from the television; but for others, the only source he knew of in the house were all books for older children with few pictures, if any. Donatello said Michelangelo would sometimes read to them if they asked nice enough, but Splinter had always smiled and dismissed it as Michelangelo making things up while holding a book. Perhaps that idea was worth some investigation.

The storm that the news predicted for tonight was rolling in, its arrival signaled by the rolling thunder. Suddenly, Splinter had his middle two children gripping his legs as they looked at the ceiling above them. "It's alright." Splinter soothed, setting a hand on either child's head. Leonardo walked over, certainly not scared by the storm, not one bit, he was just holding on to Splinter and his brothers to comfort his family. Splinter held out a hand inviting Michelangelo to join them, but his youngest just stared at the ceiling with rapt attention.

Splinter sighed inwardly and turned his attention back to the children at his legs, wondering if he should explain the cause of the thunder for possibly the hundredth time, or find a way to distract them. The decision was made for him, as a peal of thunder ended and a small voice piped up, "I wonder who was closest."

"Who was closest to what, my son?" Splinter asked of his youngest.

"Who was closest to the truth." Michelangelo replied, then elaborated, "About the cause of thunder. The Greeks believe that thunder comes from Zeus angrily throwing lighting, while the Roman's thought it the work of Jupiter. The Norse had Thor, who only commanded thunder, and the Celts had Taranis, who was thunder himself. I wonder who was closest to the truth."

"Those are just stories." Donatello argued, releasing his hold on his father slightly to face his younger brother, "They involve imaginary people doing things that are impossible."

Michelangelo just shrugged, and said, "But are you sure they're imaginary? Thunder is real, so why not a man who is thunder?"

"Because you can't be thunder." Raphael practically yelled over another bought of thunder, completely forgetting to be scared in his momentary rage.

"I can't, and you can't, but maybe it was Taranis's special talent, like how Leo can memorize an entire episode of 'Space Heroes'." Michelangelo retorted.

"That's not the same as being thunder." Leonardo huffed and crossed his arms, angry at the idea that his best talent was memorizing the script of his favorite show.

"Yeah, it's perfectly normal for someone to learn through repetition, so of course Leo can memorize something he watches so much." Donatello added.

"I don't watch it that much, Donnie." Leonardo defended himself, stamping his tiny foot.

"Yeah you do." Raphael said smugly, instigating a squabble.

Splinter turned his attention from the bickering children back to his youngest. Michelangelo had gone right back to the book he was looking at, perhaps, Splinter thought, his youngest really could read. Splinter settled down to sit beside his youngest, "Where did you learn to read?" Splinter asked.

"From you." Michelangelo replied simply. "I've followed the words on the page, along with the words from your mouth, and I learned the letter's sounds."

Splinter just nodded for a moment, wanting to test this out, he pointed to a random word on the page of his son's book, without really looking, and asked, "Can you tell me what word this is?"

Michelangelo followed his father's finger, then looked back up to Splinter's face. The little one just smiled impishly and said, "No." Before getting up and running off to join his brothers' play wrestling.

Splinter blinked in confusion before looking down his at the word under his finger. Sure enough, it was the word 'no', and Splinter had to admit his defeat with a chuckle.


End file.
